Glimmer: A Single Point of Light
by Nashidesei
Summary: Three years after Meteor, Vincent is living in complete solitude and Yuffie's fallen of the face of the earth. When Vincent gets information that leads him to believe she’s in trouble, he finds himself roped into something much deeper. [Discontinued]
1. Catch Me if You Can!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Final Fantasy VII. Thus, neither do I own Vincent, Yuffie, Cloud, Sephiroth, a black chocobo named Azrael, a white chocobo named Ayana, or a house in Costa del Sol. I could afford that last one, but the realtor won't wake up and sell it to me. Jerk.

**Setting:** Three years after Meteor, mildly AU. Not related to the _Ties That Bind _series in any way. The fanfic entitled _Puppet_ (formerly known as _Your Life is the Illusion_) can be considered a prequel of sorts, but no allusions are made to that fanfic specifically, merely the events that took place in it, and in the point in the game it is based on.

**Summary:** Three years after Meteor, Vincent is living in complete solitude and Yuffie seems to have fallen of the face of the earth. When Vincent receives information that leads him to believe she's in trouble, he finds himself roped into a quest running much deeper than locating a prodigal ninja.

**Pairings:** listed after chapter.

**O - O - O**

**O - O - O**

**Chapter One: Catch Me If You Can!**

The sun was setting.

He watched in still silence, not a glimmer of light coming to his garnet eyes or a hint of a smile curing his pale lips. No, he preferred merely to watch. To watch, day after day, as time flowed mercilessly onward. At least when he watched the sun rise and set he could prove to himself that time was, indeed, passing. Otherwise, it might as well have been three days since the defeat of Sephiroth rather than three years; the lone figure perched atop the once-beautiful mansion hadn't changed at all. Oh, his hair was longer and his clothing a little worse for the wear, but there wasn't a single note of age on him. He had always been like that, even before the change. Ageless. Even now he could have just as easily been seventeen than his apparent twenty-seven—though no one would believe that he was, in fact, over the age of sixty by this point in time.

Time. It all came back to time. Vincent realized that the sun had set, though he hadn't noticed, and the first stars of evening were beginning to shine. A glimmer of light in the otherwise black sky. No, it wasn't even black anymore. In the years since the Reactors were shut down the sky had cleared, and it was the most intense shade of midnight blue tonight that Vincent had ever seen. Even when he was a child the sky had been black during the night, so the realization that it was the same shade as the deepest of sapphires came as some surprise.

Pinpoints of light flared with each passing heartbeat, and soon the sky was alight with stars. The moon had yet to rise, but it was easy enough for the ruby-cloaked man to see with only the starlight to go by. And such starlight…! It must have been some sort of special night, for the stars were brighter at that moment than he cold ever recall, the sky so clear it seemed—for once—to stretch on forever. No clouds, no planes, nothing to obstruct the perfection of the stars. The gunner wondered if there was some place that celebrated this night, and if any of his comrades were there.

Cloud was most certainly awake, probably watching the sunset from his home in Costa Del Sol. Cloud rarely ever left his seaside home, preferring to stay inside and laze his extended life away trying to sort his scattered memories. Vincent wondered if anyone was with him tonight, any old comrades visiting or reporters camping out on his doorstep. Cloud had never said a word to the press about the fight, and so they never really left him alone. The others had all given their stories and been deemed worthless since, but Cloud remained a mystery. Vincent decided he was probably alone tonight, as he always was. Nursing some great hurt he would never speak a word of.

Tifa had left Cloud twice over the initial year after Sephiroth's defeat, and a third time toward the end of the second. Vincent didn't blame her. She had been living in the house Aerith was born in last time Vincent heard from her. That had been a year ago, if he recalled correctly; right after she settled in completely. She was working as a doctor of sorts, using the training she had acquired over the course of their journey to make a living. She was a quick study, smart and beautiful, and Vincent doubted she would be alone for long.

Nanaki was at Cosmo Canyon, studying to become the Elder as his grandfather had been, and searching for more of his own kind. When Vincent had heard of the young wolfcat's endeavor, he had done some searching of his own, but come up relatively empty-handed. The little evidence he did find was given immediately to Nanaki, who accepted it graciously before politely requesting Vincent leave him to do it alone. Vincent understood that the wolfcat wanted to find his own people with his own means, and stepped back from the search.

Cid was in Rocket Town, probably already asleep, with Shera by his side tonight as she had always been. They had been married three weeks after the Jenova Incident—as the press was calling it—came to a close. Everyone had been there, even Cloud had come out of whatever hole he had been hiding in to avoid the public eye to join in the festivities. It wasn't much, but Reeve dropped by and given them gifts so amazing—and obviously expensive—that Vincent had been enlisted to keep an eye on Yuffie to make sure she didn't try anything. She tried, needless to say, but there was no success in her attempts.

Barret was in Neo-Midgar with his daughter and Aerith's mother, the three of them living in the home Aerith had grown up in. The man with the gun-hand made frequent trips to Corel, but within a year of Sephiroth's defeat the town had righted itself—with Barret's help—and required little attention nowadays. The publicity it got for being the hometown of a member of AVALANCHE was enough to clean the place up considerably, and the rest was done by its connection to Gold Saucer. The theme park was booming—it had been expanded twice since the incident, thriving off the documentaries done on its connection both with the Black Materia and with Cait Sith, who had helped to save the world along with everyone else.

The little doll had gone to Gold Saucer at the end, and it was there that he was at last retrieved by Reeve—the Turks in tow, seeming much lighter of heart than they had ever been—and shut down for good. Reeve had left, then, and no one had seen him in person since. He was busy, working to restore the damage done to Neo-Midgar by both Meteor and Holy, and attempting to turn around the workings of Neo-Shinra. He was the president now, with everyone else dead, and working hard to take apart every single Reactor piece by piece. The generator he had used on Cait Sith had been studied, tweaked, and enlarged to take up the space of a single Reactor in Sector One, and that lone power plant now powered the entire city. Vincent was, though he would never say it aloud, rather proud of the former Secretary of Urban Development.

Last of all was Yuffie. If anyone was celebrating the brightness of the stars it would be her; lighthearted, energetic Yuffie celebrated everything from the defeat of the pseudogod Sephiroth to the healing of her bruised knuckles with fervor. The stars' light was likely not lost to her, wherever she was.

Vincent knew where the others were, but Yuffie remained a mystery. He had traveled, done mercenary work, for a time after Jenova fell, but his short jaunt to Wutai over a year ago had proven that Yuffie had not, in fact, returned home. She stopped in from time to time, so Godo said, but she had not been home in eight months when Vincent visited. Godo had requested that the gunner, should he see the prodigal Kisaragi, to tell her to come home for good.

The gunner had no intention of doing any such thing—Yuffie's life was her own, she had earned that much at the very least in standing against Sephiroth, and no one was going to tell her own to run it any longer, least of all her father. Vincent respected the man's ability to adapt to change, but he had never appreciated the way he treated his daughter. He behaved as though she was some sort of puppet for him to speak through, a lump of clay he could model after himself. Yuffie was her own person, had her own spirit, and Godo didn't seem to see that.

Of course, Vincent hadn't seen Yuffie since they parted ways at Cid's wedding, so the memory hadn't resurfaced until now. Where was she, he wondered, and why didn't she ever visit the others? He could understand why she never came to see him—he was _Vincent_, after all, and had probably scared her to death since the moment she laid eyes on him under the mansion—but no one had spoken to her since the wedding. One of the gunner's comrades would call every couple months, and Vincent tended to ask if they had seen Yuffie lately; all of them said no. Even Cloud and Nanaki hadn't seen her the last time they called, and that had only been five months and two months, respectively, ago.

Vincent had found out upon Cloud's call that it had become a topic of great conversation among the others. Before the end of the battle, the merest thought of Vincent asking about Yuffie would have made anyone laugh, but now it happened, and it happened frequently. The gunner guessed that someone had told another, and the word had spread since then.

As if on cue, the gunner's PHS rang. He sighed, removing his eyes from the sky, and flipped open the phone, pressing the green button and holding it to his ear. "Valentine," he answered.

"_Hey, Vin, long time no see!" _said a gruff voice from the other end; Cid. _"Before y'ask, I figure I should tell ya that I saw Yuffie today." _Vincent stiffened involuntarily, eyes widening. When had hearing of her become so important? She had always been nothing more than the youngest of their group, and hadn't even crossed Vincent's mind after the end until his visit to Wutai. But now he always seemed to find his thoughts returning to the missing ninja. _"Well? Isn't that a good thing?"_

Vincent realized he hadn't replied, and did so at last. "Yes. Where?"

"_Caught a glimpse of her in Kalm. Shera an' I were on our way to visit Barret an' Marlene, to show 'em the baby, y'know?"_ Vincent did not know, but supposed that he should have. He gave a quick congratulations, wondering why he hadn't been told of the child's arrival, and waited for Cid to continue. _"Thanks, Vin, that means a lot coming from you. Anyway, so I passed her on the street, an' it took me a second to recognize her. I turned around and called for her, and she turned around and looked at me. Then she got all scared-lookin' and ran off."_

"Odd," Vincent murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. "Did she say anything?"

"_Not a word outta her. That's the really weird part; the brat never stopped talkin' last time I saw her, and now she's, like, mute and all depressed."_

Vincent waited for an explanation, realized he would have to prompt it, and spoke again. "What do you mean, depressed?"

Cid paused for a long moment. _"Well, not so much depressed as…tired? I dunno. Anyway, her hair was all messy and her skin was pale—looked like she hadn't slept in a week. And she had this cut on her face, just below her eye."_

Vincent let the pilot change the subject then, going on about the prettiness of his daughter—who, apparently, looked like a blonde baby Shera—but Vincent wasn't paying attention. Yuffie had run from one of her comrades; she had been ruffled in appearance, and she hadn't said a word. This did not bode well for the young Kisaragi. Cid's coos about his baby trailed off and he said a quick farewell. Vincent merely shut off his phone, not bothering to say goodbye himself, and stared out over the earth stretched out around him.

She was in trouble, that much was obvious. But usually her being in trouble would result in her hurrying to get help from a friend. The fact that she _ran_ from Cid suggested that she was in trouble to the point that involving anyone else would be dangerous. But they had saved the world; the monster called Jenova was destroyed, Shinra was gone, Meteor's rape of the earth had been averted. What could possibly be holding her in such a thrall?

The gunner rose to his feet, steady in spite of the ramshackle roof he stood on, and looked out round him. The windows of Nibelheim glowed warmly—all save the mansion he lived in, the Shinra Mansion. It hadn't seen light inside during the nighttime hours since that last covey of reporters had come eight months ago, attempting to get Vincent's side of the story and failing miserably when the few monsters left in the mansion attacked them. The thought of reporters made him think of Cloud, and the gunner dialed in the young Clone's code on his PHS. He would be willing to look for her, wouldn't he?

The phone rang once.

Out of everyone in AVALANCHE, Cloud had been the one who most identified with Yuffie, both before and after he regained his memory.

The phone rang again.

Surely he would be interested in this bizarre news; perhaps he could talk to Reeve and see if anything strange was happening in the outside world.

A third ring sounded.

Cloud had never taken so long to answer, had he? Perhaps he was always like this—Vincent had only called him once since the end, and that had been the first time Tifa left him. Then the sunshine-haired young man had been prompt, his voice steady in spite of the emotional trauma he had just suffered.

There was a fourth ring, then a click as the young man's voice mail turned on. _"Cloud Strife," _a recording of the numberless Clone said. _"I'm not picking up right now, and I might never pick up. If you're a friend, leave a message; it you're not, go screw yourself."_ One of the gunner's eyebrows quirked. When had he recorded that? He must have been in a particularly bad mood that day.

"Cloud, it's Vincent. Cid said he saw Yuffie today, and I think she's in trouble. Call me back when you get the message." With that he hung up, heaving a sigh and looking down at the ground far below. He couldn't call the others; the only ones he had ever identified with were Cid—they had both had all their dreams pulled out from under them like a rug in an old movie—Cloud—there was little to be said about their connection, it was obvious—and Nanaki—they had both been prodded by the same lunatic. Nanaki was busy studying and searching for his people, Vincent couldn't interrupt that because of something Cid, who was not the best source, had said. The others were already accounted for.

It looked like there was only one thing left to do.

Vincent sighed, made sure his gun was in it holster, and jumped of the roof, landing with all the weight and sound of a shadow on the cobbled stones below before darting into the darkness and disappearing entirely. The rooftop was empty, then, as though nothing had ever been there in the first place.

The moon was rising.

---------------

"Run-run-run-run-_run_!" she cried, darting between buildings and people, searching for some concealing corner of shadow deep enough to drown herself in. It hadn't been a problem when she saw Cid earlier, and it wouldn't have been a problem at all if it weren't for the fact that she had run. Due to her hasty retreat, it was obvious to the Watcher assigned to her that the blond was someone she knew, and he had taken actions to make sure she wouldn't make contact with anyone else from her past.

Namely, a failed attempt to cut off her feet so she couldn't walk around anymore.

So she ran, hard and fast, until it felt as though her lungs would burst. She caught sight of a red-and-blue sign and raced into the shop it advertised, bowling over a woman coming out carrying so many boxes that she had no head to speak of and obviously had no clue where she was going. Yuffie, on the other hand, knew _exactly_ where she was going, and only had a moment to make it there before the Watcher would catch up. She darted behind the counter, obviously terrifying the shopkeeper, and slammed once on the third floorboard back. It upended, and she pulled it back until it was completely flipped over, pushing it back into place with a satisfied _click_. She turned to her left and found a trapdoor barely with width of her shoulders in the wall.

"Yes!" she cheered, diving in and pulling her legs in after her just as the door slid shut. She could swear she heard footsteps—heavy and steady, like a Nibelheim rain—sound against the creaky floorboards as she scrambled through the narrow passage. The Watcher couldn't know about this passage—not even she had known about it until three months ago during a particularly expensive purchase of new clothing. And he hadn't been there; she knew for a fact that there had been _no_ Watchers present during that short foray into world outside pursuit.

But she didn't know where it led; for all she knew it opened into a monster nest. _It leads away from the Watcher,_ she told herself sternly. _That's good enough for me!_

She went on for what felt like hours, until all her muscles were cramped and her breath was labored. Just when she had come to the decision that this was another dream, that the passage would never end, it opened up into the open air and she tumbled unceremoniously out. Head rattled and muscles aching, she remained in the position she had fallen for several long moments, seeking out the little strength remaining in her limbs and preparing for anything. Something was bound to happen so long as she remained in one place, and she wanted to be ready for it.

Something did happen, though not at all what she expected. She had been expecting for the Watcher to emerge from the tunnel—even though his shoulders were far too broad to allow him entry—or for some spell to ricochet out the opening just above her head, but what happened was considerably different. A strange warbling noise caught her attention, and something tugged lightly at her hair. Very lightly.

She angled her head back to see the underside of the square pipe she had climbed through—it certainly looked gross from the outside, and even though she knew the inside was in perfect repair her nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought that she had actually crawled on her belly through it—to find a single violet eye rooted on her. A very large violet eye. Almost the size of her fist.

The ninja yelped and rolled forward in a somersault, landing at last on her feet with Conformer in hand, but she relaxed the instant she realized what it was she was seeing. "Ayana!" she cried, leaping to her feet and wrapping both arms around the massive chocobo's neck. "I thought Akaru killed you _months_ ago!"

As if in reply the white chocobo warked happily, then proceeded to rub against the girl's neck almost like a cat. Yuffie chuckled and embraced the giant bird with the same affection it was currently showing her. They stayed like this for several long moments before Yuffie drew back and looked deep into her long-lost mount's amethyst eyes, petting the top of its head lightly and speaking in a tone so sweet it would be enough to give anyone a toothache. "Listen, babe, I need your help. I have to get out of here, and I have to do it now. The only problem is, I don't have any greens to give you, and you don't have a saddle or reigns. This is going to be hard on both of us, but we need to get out of here before Akaru's flunkies catch up with us, okay?"

The chocobo cocked it head to one side and blinked once, clearly not understanding, and Yuffie let out a sigh. She held up her right hand and snapped—instantly the bird's attention was rooted on her too-pale fingers. She clicked her tongue and the chocobo turned back to her face. She continued this, alternating, for several seconds before beginning to do both at once. The bird was confused for a moment, but then turned and rooted its attention on her face. Yuffie smiled and stopped snapping.

Cloud had taught her how to do that, to catch a chocobo's attention and keep it, regardless of whether she had anything to offer or not. Cause momentary sensory overload, force it to make a decision, then stop the choice it didn't take. She had always wondered where he had learned it, but never thought to ask.

It worked every time. The girl shot her eyes downward, and the bird knelt, allowing her to mount. It turned to one side, fixing a purple eye on her face, and she placed one hand on either side of the bird's neck, snapping the fingers of each once. Ayana turned to face forward again, standing up, and Yuffie petted her mount's neck for a moment more before releasing with her left hand and pressing lightly with her right. The bird turned to the left and started off at a brisk walk.

Yep—that trick worked every single time. Yuffie decided that she would definitely marry whoever it was that had come up with it if he ever asked. _Unless it was someone like that sleaze, Corneo. Or that Turk, Rude. Reno might not be that bad. But if it was my dad…or maybe— _She broke off. Maybe she wouldn't marry whoever came up with that trick, after all. There were just too many possibilities.

Yuffie urged Ayana into a canter, taking in the scenery all around her. She was in a forest, she realized, which couldn't be possible if she had climbed out a hole in Kalm. The nearest forest was…hell, she didn't even _know_. "Unless," she mused to herself, someone put this…here…!" Her eyes widened and she tightened her grip on the bird's neck, grey eyes darting around her as Ayana froze in place, one foot lifted to take a step.

The ninja ground her teeth. Another damned trap; all this, and it was just another trap. She was still caged. "Akaru!" she shouted, removing her hands from her mount's neck and allowing it to relax. "I know you're out there, you bastard!"

"Ah…" a smooth male voice breathed somewhere to her right, so close to her ear she swore she felt him breathe on her, "but if you cannot find me, then there is no point in my keeping you." She leapt off the bird to be further away from him, wherever he was. "Find me, my little kitling. Perhaps I will let you leave this den I have built for you for another day if you can find me."

She ground her teeth, clenching one hand into a fist and taking hold of Conformer with the other. "How about I just start chopping things to bits until I hit you?"

"Straightforward, as always. But of course, that is one of the many things I so adore about you, kitling." Her head shot back to face beyond her bird, where she found a young man standing. He was in his mid-twenties, with red hair—fiery blond highlights streaking through the crimson—and Wutaian-slanted eyes of pale blue. His smile was not unpleasant, but there was a predatory note to it that Yuffie recognized from both Don Corneo and Rufus Shinra, though even the young president had never seemed _close_ to as threatening as the sky blue-eyed Wutaian before her.

Akaru walked past the girl's chocobo, pausing to ruffle the snowy plumage on its wings before continuing toward the girl. "I built this forest, you know. It's more like a jungle, though, than a forest. So many of the old trees from home couldn't survive here that I had to make due with what would. Even I have my limits." Yuffie stood, defiant, before him, eyes narrowed. He was close now, close enough to touch only extending her arm halfway, but the young ninja was determined not to back down. Akaru sighed, looking down at her—she was barely eye-level with his chin—with a slightly lighter smile. "Don't you like it? I remembered how you used to love to play in your father's garden when we were little and I tried to recreate it here. Isn't that enough for you?"

He reached out to take her hand, but she jerked it away, taking a single step back. "Don't you _dare_ touch me you….you…!" She couldn't even find a word to describe him.

Hojo had been a malicious lunatic, Sephiroth had been a madman with the powers of a god, but Akaru…Akaru was, somehow, worse than both of them combined. There were no words to describe his variety of _wrong_. It was like Hojo's lust for power combined with President Shinra's authority and the magic of _kitsune_ from an old fairy tale; he could do anything he wanted, be anyone, but still he wanted more.

Akaru wanted it all; and, for some reason she didn't quite understand, he thought Yuffie could give it to him.

He leaned forward, his smile fading as he parted his lips and let out a long breath that smelled of roses and summer. Yuffie winced when his breath touched her face, but did not move otherwise. _Let him be a weirdo,_ she thought. _Maybe he'll get so stuck on trying to be mysterious that he'll leave himself open._ She bit her bottom lip. _That's how it always worked in the books…princess captured by evil prince/king/wizard/lord-of-some-sort, he lets his guard down, she gets away. She runs straight into the arms of her prince…_ That was where she faltered. Yuffie Kisaragi, future Lady of Wutai, had no prince to run to; nowhere she could be safe. If Akaru found out she was coercing with any of her friends from AVALANCHE he would have them killed. Them, but not her.

She had seen it enough times before to know that he would leave her alive. He needed her, after all; without her, he would never be Lord of Wutai, and without that authority he would never have the power to complete his goal—whatever that was. Yuffie didn't really want to know what it was he was striving for; all she had to know was that it was bad, and the man immediately ranked very high on her _This Person Needs to Die Before He Screws Up the World_ list. She almost grinned at the thought of anyone—even her—writing down a list of all the people that needed to die to protect the planet. Hojo, check; Sephiroth, check; Heidegger, check; President Shinra, check…

Akaru? No. Not yet at least.

The redhead placed his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her close enough to lean his forehead against hers as he looked deep into her grey eyes. "Isn't it pointless," he murmured, "to hate me so much? Your father agreed to this; the would never do anything to hurt you."

Yuffie wanted to tell the man that her father had beaten the tar out her as a child whenever she stepped out of line; that the only reason he acknowledged her existence was because her mother was dead and she looked a bit too much like her to overlook; that he really didn't care if his daughter was happy with his decisions or not. Anything just to make him stop talking. But she couldn't—her father meant too much to her. She hated him, yes, but it was the same hate she had so often directed at the rest of AVALANCHE when things didn't go her way. She loved him more than she hated him, she wanted him to be proud of her, not disappointed. Would marrying Akaru make him proud? She doubted it.

The ninja let out a sigh. To think that this terrible ordeal had found its roots when she was barely six years old…

Akaru closed his eyes. "Considering you have no alternative, kitling, you _have_ to marry me, to keep the blood of Wutai flowing strong." He smiled. "Just think of the children we'll make…"

"I won't," she hissed through clenched teeth, tightening her grip on Conformer, "be bearing any children of yours, you sick bastard!" She leapt back, swinging her giant shuriken like a sword or dagger, slicing open the front of the Wutai nobleman's kimono. She whistled loudly, Ayana rushing to her side in an instant, and leapt onto the chocobo as though her life depended on it. Which, in a manner of speaking, it did. They raced off, and Yuffie turned to see how much damage she had done to the man claiming to be fiancé. Her grey eyes widened when she realized what she was seeing.

Firstly, he was pursuing them. On foot. And keeping up. His arms were at his sides, spread out almost like a bird on the verge of taking flight, the sleeves of his haori flapping out behind him like great cerulean-and-silver plumage. Secondly, he wasn't bleeding. There was blood on the front of his kimono, certainly, but it looked…old. Dry.

Like there was no blood left in him to bleed.

Akaru smiled as he gained speed, coming closer with each passing moment, and Yuffie tightened her grip on Ayana's neck, urging her to quicken the pace. The bird did so, and soon Akaru began to shrink behind them; when it all came down it, he could be as fast as Sephiroth and a good chocobo could still outlast him on endurance. At least, Yuffie hoped so. She faced forward again, letting out a sigh of relief as they broke the cover of trees and thereby escaped the princess' gilded cage, but even carefree Yuffie couldn't help but feel that her escape had been a bit too easy. Akaru wasn't going to give her up without a fight—he would find her again, just like he always had, and she'd be dragged off to hide in one of his numerous 'summer homes.' She had to think of something fast, before he sent the Watchers out after her again.

But where could she go? She didn't dare involve anyone else—they all had lives ahead of them, days of joy and light just on the horizon. Except, perhaps, for Cloud and Vincent; the ninja doubted those two could acclimate to peace regardless of what kind of therapy they went through. However, in spite of the fact that she doubted those two particular members of AVALANCHE weren't as content with life as the others, she couldn't just rope them into this mess. It was her problem, and she couldn't bear to think of either of them being hurt.

Well, being hurt anymore than they already were.

Her only choice was to run—run as fast and as far as she could, hide out somewhere he could never thin of looking for her. But if she thought he would never think of looking for her somewhere, that meant he would check there first. Akaru had always been like that; when they played hide-and-seek as children he had always—_always_—won.

Yuffie sighed. Akaru had been her friend; a kindhearted, if somewhat arrogant, boy with fiery red hair that he got teased for more often than not. He had been fun to play with, easy to talk to, and always made her feel like she could do anything. He had believed in her when her father didn't, and she had loved him for that. Of course, she had never had any romantic interest in him, not even in the last moment before she ran away, when he held her hand and begged her to stay… She closed her eyes and shook her head, letting the chill wind of the Midgar Field clear her head.

Akaru Inochigawa—her pursuer. Heir to the Inochigawa fortune when she saw him last, when she was barely twelve, and he a mere sixteen. They had been betrothed since childhood, when she was six and Akaru ten, and that had been one of the many reasons Yuffie Kisaragi had left Wutai in the first place. She wanted to decide who she would love, who she would marry; if it turned out that, after she had her fill of life outside her father's box, she really did care for Akaru, then she would have married him.

Upon returning to Wutai after Holy and Meteor, after Sephiroth was defeated and the world saved, Yuffie found the red-haired Wutai noble a changed man. He was cold and almost cruel, his arrogance and ambition seeming almost to be more than he could handle, and he was furious. Furious over what? She wondered. There was no reason to be angry because the world was saved, but he continued to rant and rave about what things would be like, "If Sephiroth hadn't been defeated."

It scared her.

So, as she tended to do whenever things grew too intense for her to handle, she ran. She ran and she was caught, by a young man from Midgar who called himself a Watcher. _"I am a carrier of Lord Akaru's gaze, I hold a fraction of his omniscience…"_

Yuffie had spent the last two years escaping and being recaptured, over and over, until she had almost given up hope of ever being a real person again. Until she found that trapdoor in Kalm; then the spark that was her spirit was relit, and she formulated a plan.

Thoughts of Kalm made her brow furrow. Akaru would be searching the field, checking Wutai and Nibelheim and even Neo-Midgar for signs of her—those were the three places she would never dream of going, and so the first places he would station his Watchers—but what about Kalm? Not even Akaru would suspect her return to that hellhole, the cage she had lived in for the last six months.

She urged Ayana into a turn, coming about, and faced the now-distant town. "Come on, birdbrain," she breathed, "let's go get you a saddle."

They started off toward the city, a prison of blue cobbled stones and trees that should never have been.

**O - O - O**

**O - O - O**

**Author's Note:** Okay, as with all new stories I have a few points to make before the story is continued. First, this story was originally conceived only because of a challenge I was issued, and I have been deliberating on the plot for almost a month. In that month it became a story I truly _wanted_ to write, and I'm enjoying writing it about as much as _Bound_. It is not intended to be a very long story, but mine never are. _Bound_ was only supposed to be twelve or thirteen chapters long. Yeah. Right. That certainly worked out, didn't it? Secondly, this fanfic is unconventional. Highly unconventional. The main reason for this is because of the pairing combination—current, past, and implied (meaning '_happening in this fanfic_,' '_happened in the past_,' and '_may or may not be real, but it looks like it probably is_')—that is used. I guess I should give a list so you know what to expect, huh?

**Pairings (type):**

Vincent/Yuffie _(implied, eventually current)  
_Vincent/Lucrecia _(past)  
_Cloud/Sephiroth _(current, implied)  
_Cloud/Tifa _(past, implied)  
_Cloud/Aerith _(past)  
_Barret/Elmyra _(current, implied)  
_Cid/Shera _(current)  
_Hojo/Lucrecia _(past)  
_Zack/Aerith _(past)  
_Sephiroth/Zack _(past, implied)_

It's not normal for a fanfic to incorporate different orientations, and I understand that a lot of people aren't going to read this fanfic because of the _shonen-ai_ implications, and others aren't because there aren't enough of them. I do not endorse the Vincent/Cid pairing by any means, but neither do I believe in the possibility of a rekindling of a relationship between Cloud and Tifa. I have incorporated hints of both, however, in this story. I've read some darn good Vincent/Cid fics, and I can bear a couple Cloud/Tifas here and there, so the genre isn't completely lost to me. Vincent/Tifa, however, in my opinion, is just going a bit too far. As a result, there is not an inkling of that pairing in here. Not even a word.

Thanks to anyone who is reading this, both new readers and fans of my other works. I really appreciate all your support, and I hope you continue to enjoy reading my work as much as I enjoy writing it.

If you think this story was worth your time, please leave a review. If not, then you can leave a flame if it means that much to you. Be warned, though; I won't have a whole lot to say in response to flamers. Constructive reviewers, however, will receive a note of thanks in the next update. I especially appreciate when I am given a suggestion on how to improve my writing; if you want to critique, fell free to critique! Constructive criticism is _always_ welcome, so long as it's done politely.


	2. Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide

**Author's Note: **Thanks to any returning readers for waiting long enough for me to finish this, and anyone new for reading it in the first place. I mentioned in the first chapter that this story is not intended to be very long, and it looks like—for once—it isn't going to be. The main plot is introduced in this chapter, whereas in _Bound_ the main point wasn't discovered until chapter ten or so. Thanks to anyone who likes Akaru, (or loves to hate him, as the case may be). I hope he's a decent villain, befitting of being placed on Yuffie's _This Person Needs to Die Before He Blows Up The World_ list. If you have any suggestions for how I can improve his villainy, please tell me! I take most suggestions to heart.

All right, I'm just rambling now. On with the fic!

**-**

**-**

**Chapter Two: Nowhere to Run, Nowhere to Hide**

"Damn, it's hot…" Yuffie complained loudly, pulling at the turtleneck collar of her shirt. The tailor hadn't had fabric in the same color as her old shirt, so she now wore an almost military-toned grey-green. The fabric was also thicker than her old shirt, so she felt the heat more now than she had before being refitted; as a result she had been complaining about the heat every third step, making herself quite obvious to the townsfolk—which thereby made her invisible.

It actually wasn't that hot, but as long as Yuffie made herself a nuisance to the general populous they would ignore her, and as long as they ignored her none of them would be able to tip off the Watchers to her current location. It was, in her opinion, one of the more ingenious facets of her jewel of a plan. She turned the corner to Ayana's stable, finding herself on a deserted street, and it was there that she fell silent and stopped her forward journey. She let out a sigh, looking up at the sky, and watched the stars begin to appear. It was really quite pretty, she thought. Little pinpoints of light in a blanket that was currently caught between red and blue.

She had been surprised to find the sky in Kalm such an intense shade of blue so soon after Sephiroth's fall, but supposed that Reeve had completely thrown himself into cleaning up the air around Midgar, then spread his work out from there. That would make Kalm the second-cleanest place on earth, now that Neo-Midgar was finally stable.

The brunette lowered her eyes from the star-dappled sky, her grey eyes growing hot with tears. Reeve…just thinking about him, or any of the others, made her cry. She missed them all so much; there was nothing she wanted more in the entire world than to find someone she knew and hold them tight in her arms. Heck, she would even hug Vincent right now.

And hugging a man like him—who more closely resembled some sort of borderline-mute doll—meant that she was seriously desperate for company. She wondered what he was doing at that moment; had he gone back to sleep under the mansion, as he had mentioned at Cid's wedding? Or was he still awake and terrifying small children when they wandered into his oversized house?

_For all I know he isn't even in Nibelheim right now,_ she scolded herself. _He's probably staying with Cloud or something._ The thought made a smile come to her face in spite of the tears that still streaked her cheeks. Those two had barely taken part in conversation last time she saw them, and she could just picture the two of them sitting on a couch in companionable silence for years before one of them got bored and said something bland like, "'Night." It made her chuckle.

Yuffie straightened her back and looked forward again, trudging off toward the stable to feed her mount and leave this Gaea-forsaken town. It had been three days since her daring escape from Akaru's clutches, three days since she had attainted freedom—though she felt it would only be temporary, just like it had been for the last two years—and three days since she had seen any of Akaru's Watchers. That was plenty enough time for her to formulate another plan, to work out the next leg of her journey.

She couldn't go to any of her friends for help; she hated the thought of any of them being hurt on her account. Cid had a baby to take care of, Barret still had Marlene…they were all tied down. Their families could be used as leverage to send Yuffie back into her fiancé's hold, and Yuffie couldn't bear to think of forcing them to choose between their families and her. Besides, she knew what the answer would be, anyway.

"Dammit," she choked, realizing that she was crying again. She reached up and wiped her eyes with one gloved hand, biting her lip in an attempt to sober herself. But the tears wouldn't stop. It was like when Aerith had died; she was just as hopeless, just as lost…but this time she was alone. There was no Barret to yell at when he saw her crying and tried, in his own way, to make her stop. There was no Vincent to beat with her fists when he placed one hand—his human hand, he never touched anyone with his claw—on her back and simply held her.

_Lucky bastard,_ she thought bitterly, remembering that he had not been crying when they lost the Cetra. _He probably didn't even care…_ Vincent had merely stood in silence for a long moment, then turned away and looked down, down, down, his scarlet gaze digging through the earth far below, racing along beneath the Highwind. He hadn't said a word, never a single word to say that he missed Aerith, and he had never once cried.

Yuffie had, and she had hated the fact that there were others to see it. But now, for the first time in her life, she wished there were someone there to watch her cry. Someone to place a hand on her back and whisper, so quietly she wasn't even sure it was real, that it was all right.

**-**

Vincent wondered if his fixation with locating the prodigal Wutai princess had anything to do with his slight attempt at comforting her when Aerith had died. He hadn't really meant to do anything, he knew what it would result in if he allowed himself to become close to anyone, but something had spurred him into action. While Cloud had cried and held an equally tear-streaked Tifa, albeit stiffly, and Nanaki curled up in the corner, shuddering from time to time with what could only be suppressed sobs, Vincent had not wept a single tear, allowing Yuffie to cry on her own.

_She deserved that much,_ he thought. He had always thought that the young thief deserved the chance to mourn on her own, as he always did, without having to worry about upsetting anyone else. And he had let her; he had let her cry and cry, pounding her fists futilely into his chest with frustration when he wouldn't let her go, swearing at him in both the common tongue and her own Wutaian—both of which he understood quite fluently—as though it was his fault the Cetra had died.

In a way, he surmised, it was. All lines came back to him, after all. Without him, Sephiroth never would have been born, and so never gone mad and destroyed so many lives, so many dreams and aspirations. All lines came back to a young Turk by the name of Vincent Valentine, a man who, in his arrogance, had thought that he could singlehandedly end the most despicable act Gaea had ever seen committed on, in, or under her surface. A man who had been killed over thirty years ago.

He had died, just as Aerith had, but still he remained wandering the earth. Still he flitted from place to place, like a specter or a shadow, leaving in his trail nothing but the faintest echo of a breath and—if he ran into trouble—a monster or two, blasted beyond recognition by some sort of firearm that was so powerful it couldn't possibly exist. But then, there was very little about Vincent Valentine that was supposed to be; he was, after all, a very dead man. He existed outside Gaea's rule, outside nature and life itself. Outside mirth and light, outside everything…

Perhaps _that_ was why he was so intent on locating Yuffie and proving his conclusion of her situation wrong. Whereas he existed far beyond the boundaries of humanity, Yuffie lived right in the heart of all that it meant to be alive.

He had really never liked her. She had stolen from him, teased him, given him a nickname he couldn't stand being called—a name no one had used to describe him since he was eight years old—and she was terrified of him. Not that he could blame her for the last one; _everyone_ was terrified of him. Even Cloud, who was the closest to a kindred spirit Vincent had ever found since the change, had often left him behind for fear that he would lose control in battle and attack the wrong side when he transformed.

Vincent had stayed behind because of that same fear.

In fact, the gunner had hidden himself away in the decrepit Shinra Mansion because of that fear. If Chaos or the others decided they didn't like peace as much as everyone else, at least there he would be able to fight with them away from the view of innocents.

But now he was tracking one of those innocents he had been so determined to protect from the monsters that were as much a part of him now as his brassy prosthesis, and doing it of his own free will. He wondered, fleetingly, when he had gone insane, then decided he really didn't want to know.

It had been almost two weeks since his departure from Nibelheim, bringing him to outskirts of Kalm—the last place she had been seen. He continued forward, stopping momentarily to check the stars and resituate himself according to them, and found himself facing a hill. He hadn't recalled there being one here before, but Meteor and Holy—along with the crashes of the Weapons—had severely changed the geography of most of the planet. He crested the hill and froze in place, brow furrowing.

There had _never_ been a forest here before, and three years was most definitely not enough time for one to have grown. Even in Mideel, where the Lifestream was closer to the surface than anywhere else on Gaea, it took a tree at _least_ three years to make it out of sapling-hood. The soil around Kalm had always bordered on infertile due to its close proximity to Midgar, one more point proving that this forest simply could not be. It, like the ruby-eyed man looking down upon it from the top of the hill, was a creation out of nature.

_Just what have you gotten yourself into, Yuffie?_ He inquired, heading off down the hill, toward—he hoped—the place the young ninja was being kept.

As it turned out, he was quite wrong; Yuffie was not in Kalm and, if the locals were at all honest, she had never been there. Vincent knew not to trust the townsfolk, though, considering the fact that whenever he gave a description of the girl they would avert their eyes and insist that they had seen no such girl. Either they were under orders not to disclose her whereabouts, or she had done something particularly embarrassing or uncouth. Vincent supposed it was the latter.

At the end of a long day the gunner made his way toward the nearest inn—he found that Kalm, prosperous since Meteor, now had four such places to rest—so tired that he wasn't even sure if he was dragging his feet. He hoped not, but supposed that he probably was. He took a breath of chill night air and coughed, throat dry and hoarse from so much talking. His vocal cords ached from overuse, reminding the ex-Turk how rarely it was that he spoke. He had always been like that, ever since he was born. His father said that he rarely cried at all, and didn't start speaking until he was almost five. At that time, however, he spoke in fluent and full sentences; he supposed he had sounded like some sort of child prodigy. It had been hard enough to force himself into speech before Hojo took him, afterward it was almost painful. His voice, the one thing that he had always recognized about himself, was deeper and darker, with an undertone so velvety it was almost tangible. He had become something else, something beyond and below a human being, and no part of him remained untouched by that change.

So he remained quiet. Even now he wondered if he would recognize his own voice played back to him.

He wondered if that was one of the things that scared the others so much—he had been told, mostly by Tifa, that he was extremely attractive, his voice amazing, even…beautiful. Perhaps he scared the others so much because they knew what lay under that porcelain-doll exterior.

The gunner was so busy musing to himself that he almost didn't notice the white feather that the wind brushed past him, almost didn't react quickly enough to catch it before it was gone. Almost, but not quite. Snatching the feather from the air with his human hand—his claw would never be so agile—the scarlet-eyed man examined it carefully. It was at least three days old, maybe more, and so lacked any and all hint of an inherent scent. He wasn't foolish enough to hope that he had rediscovered the ninja's trail simply because he found a white feather—Ayana, Yuffie's chocobo, was white, but she wasn't the only one on the planet—but there was something about the plume that tugged at his thoughts. This was important…somehow. He stowed it safely inside his glove and hurried to the inn. He didn't technically _need_ light to properly examine the thing, but it would certainly help. He was so tired he doubted he would be able to force his vision to enhance to the point of seeing individual fibers of a feather in the darkness of night.

He stepped inside, threw a few coins on the counter without saying a word, took his key and retreated upstairs. He felt the eyes of the innkeeper bore into his back as he left, but didn't care. He reached the room labeled 13 in record time—the number reminded Vincent, fleetingly, that his birthday was coming up soon. Another week, was it? Two? It was early October, or close to it, now, but he couldn't recall the exact date. Oh well; he had stopped celebrating his birthday a long time ago. Missing thirty-odd of them while trapped in a coffin deep underground would do that to a man.

Throwing off his cloak and letting it fall to the floor in a scarlet heap, the gunner practically tore off his glove, catching the white plume as it flew free of its leathery prison. He held it carefully, eyes narrowing as he examined it, and he wondered just what it was that was so odd about this feather. He had seen enough feathers in his life to bore a chocobo rancher, so why did this one tug at his instincts so?

He turned it over, freezing in place as something shone in the lamplight. He leaned in closer, squinting even further, and found himself looking at a tiny sliver of metal. Bending the fingers of his claw experimentally several times before daring to use it, Vincent took careful hold of the sliver and lifted it from the snowy fiber, dropping it into the palm of his human hand.

The sliver, it turned out, was more like a shard, and that was what surprised the ex-Turk so. Only one metal in the world _shattered_ instead of tore, and that was the nameless material that made up the perfected weapons each member of Avalanche had found along their journey. His Death Penalty was made of this same substance, as was Cloud's Ultima Weapon, Nanaki's Seraph Comb and Yuffie's Conformer. But what could she have hit that would shatter—or at least chip—her weapon? Ultima Weapon had been shattered when Cloud struck the final blow to Sephiroth, and Aerith's Wizard Staff was destroyed when the Jenova fragment Sephiroth sent snapped it in two, but Vincent could think of nothing remaining on the planet that could do such a thing.

The thought that there was something alive, something roaming the world at that exact moment that could destroy a perfected weapon frightened the gunner more than he liked to admit. Sephiroth had spawned a deepset fear in the gunner, as it had in the others, but more pronounced to Vincent was the fear that he would have to kill him, that he would be the one to tear the son of his beloved limb from limb… That he would face the task of tearing his _own_ _child_ apart.

There was nothing to Vincent more frightening than that.

Perhaps that was why he had never told the others of his relation to Jenova's son. To claim kinship with such a madman would not brighten the others' opinions of him. If he had told anyone…even Cloud would have left him underground then, left him to wallow in the nightmares of his memories until the world ended.

The gunner took a deep breath and forced back his tangent thoughts, focusing instead of the metal shard sitting in the palm of his hand. There was something out there, even now, that could bring the world to its knees.

And, somehow, Yuffie was involved in the mess that being was creating.

"Dammit, Yuffie," he whispered, curling his fingers inward around the shard like it was some sort of precious heirloom, "where _are_ you?"

**-**

Yuffie, from her precarious perch on the far end of a metal I-beam hanging over the reborn city of Midgar, examined Conformer carefully. "Bastard's gotta be made of something nasty to break the point like this," she muttered, referring to Akaru. She placed one finger on the dulled end of one point of her massive throwing star, pressing down to see if it would break the skin, and sighed despairingly when it failed to even leave a pressure mark. If she had noticed the break earlier then she could have tracked down the missing shards of her weapon, but as things were there was no going back to Kalm. By now Akaru had probably re-stationed some of his Watchers there, and Yuffie did _not_ what to be caught again. Spending two years falling in and out of her madman fiancé's clutches was enough to harden her resolve.

If it came down to it, she would probably kill herself before letting him touch her again. For Yuffie, who valued her own life just as much—if not more on occasion—as those of her AVALANCHE comrades, this was a very heavy decision.

Ayana _wark_ed worriedly from her place on steadier ground and Yuffie turned to her with a smile. "Just a minute more, babe," she promised. "The wind up here helps me think, and I _really_ need to think right now." Yuffie was, indeed, sitting on an I-beam, the metal bent and worn in places that never should have even seen daylight, melted in others that should never have known the meaning of heat. The beam was at the very top of a mound of rubble several stories high, a mound that had doubtless once been a building of some sort. From here the ninja could look down on all of Neo-Midgar, look up at the midday sky and feel the wind through her once-again short hair. She hadn't had a chance to cut it in almost a year, causing the ends to brush her shoulderblades, and as soon as she escaped Kalm she had chopped it back off up to her ears. Long hair could be troublesome in a chase and she knew it—how many times had Tifa been caught by her hair and jerked back into place by a Turk, a guard, or a Clone? Too many for Yuffie's liking, that was certain.

Aerith, she recalled, had been caught only twice by her own hair, in spite of the fact that it was at least five inches longer than Tifa's, and Vincent—whose hair seemed to know no bounds—had never been caught by his. But Vincent was a special case; he was never, ever caught by the hands of an enemy. There had been that time in Wutai when Yuffie dropped the cage on him, Cloud and Nanaki, but she blamed only herself for that. They had trusted her, and she had stolen everything they had. She he turned traitor, just like Cait Sith.

Maybe that was why no one seemed to care about her as much as each other. Maybe that was why… She shook her head to clear it. They had welcomed her back into their circle after rescuing her and the Turk, Elena, from Don Corneo, and hadn't said a word about her thievery since. Not even Vincent, whose scarlet eyes scared her to death when she saw them glaring at her through the steel bars of her trap. Hell, Nanaki had practically adopted her as a sibling by the time their journey was through, and Cloud was constantly giving her tips on how to avoid motion-sickness. Well, once he remembered that he had once—in a time so long ago he claimed it felt like a past life—been prey to the same affliction.

The girl wiped her eyes and brought up her knees, leaning her forehead against them and breathing steadily. _There I go, crying like a baby again,_ she scolded herself. _I never used to cry this much before._ But then, before she had always had her friends to talk to. Before she had always had somewhere to run when things went bad. Before she hadn't been on the verge of being kidnapped—again—by a red-haired lunatic who couldn't bleed and broke perfected weapons with his _skin_!

She leapt to her feet, balanced perfectly on the foot-wide length of metal, and spun around to face her chocobo. "Where to next, Ayana?" she inquired, walking up the beam to meet up with the bird. She slipped Ayana a green—bought from the supply store just outside of town—and mounted. "We could hop a boat and go to Costa Del Sol."

The bird cooed quietly, shifting from side of side.

"Yeah, you're right," the girl replied, as though she had understood what the bird meant. "Cloud lives there, and it isn't a very big town. He'd find me on no time, then Akaru would find him." She sighed. "Maybe Nibelheim? Vinnie's probably sleeping, so he'd never know…" She trailed off into another sigh. "Y'know, birdbrain, I think we've finally run out of places to run."

Once again the bird made a low sound, turning her head and locking a single violet eye with Yuffie's grey.

Yuffie shook her head. "I've told you before, we can't go back to Wutai. Godo may be the leader right now, but if he falters just a little bit then Akaru'll jump in like a starved dog on a rabbit. Besides, that's where most of his Watchers are stationed, and I don't want to deal with them any more than I have to." She let out one more sigh, took hold of the reigns and turned her bird to face the path down from her thinking place. "I can't stay here—Reeve is in danger regardless of whether I'm here or not, being the president of Neo-Shinra, but my being here doubles on that danger about a hundred times." She urged the chocobo into a canter. "I mean, the last thing Reeve needs is to be reduced to hand-to-hand combat with a Watcher."

**-**

Vincent swung his metal arm, feeling a hint of satisfaction when it collided with his attacker's head with a sound not unlike the ringing of a bell, but slightly more like the breaking of a bone. The man crumpled instantly, and Vincent turned to look about the room. He sighed at the numerous bodies littering the floor, bed, and every other surface they could have fallen over, and shook his head annoyedly. "Now I have to wait for someone to wake up," he muttered, picking his way through the remains of the melee.

He hadn't killed them all, he knew that much. Out of the dozen or so that had attacked them only seven or eight had done something stupid enough to merit their deaths. Of course, attacking Vincent Valentine in the dead of night was rather stupid in itself, and expecting to win was even worse, so the gunner supposed the five or so that were still breathing should have considered themselves lucky.

He knelt before one of them listening for a heartbeat, and looked him up and down while he waited for him to wake. He wore a black tunic of Wutaian design, with the clasps in place of buttons and a high collar split down the middle; no sleeves, the ex-Turk noted, but the length of the garment—which reached the man's ankles—made it seem a moot point. His pants were also black, bound at the ankles by bracers of the same shade; his shoes were little more than an extension of the bracers, binding the heel and sole of the man's foot. It was his tunic, however, that interested the ex-Turk most.

_A _chiao-fu The gunner wondered. _No sleeves, but the rest of the design fits. Why is an assassin wearing a nobleman's clothing?_

The others, he realized as he rose to his full height and looked about again, were all dressed similarly, though their clothing was not identical. One actually wore a _chou-ran_ in place of the _chiao-fu_, with long sleeves and wicker _gato_ sandals, marking him as either a commoner or a rebel. No one wore _chou-ran _anymore unless they were trying to cause trouble.

Vincent recalled a time in his youth when his mother had made him wear one during a trip to see her family in Wutai. Back then the high-collared, long-sleeved robes were considered proper attire, but a lot had changed in the fifty-odd years since then. _They aren't the most comfortable clothing either,_ he mused to himself, remembering how stuffy the robe had been. _Why is he wearing one?_

The gunner's questions in regard to his attackers' choice of attire were all very pertinent, but he supposed that he should have been wondering why they attacked him in the first place. It couldn't have been more than twenty minutes ago that he awoke with a start, the sound of padded footsteps loud in his ears, and found himself surrounded by these strange warriors in black. Wutaian, the lot of them, but their choice to attack him in his sleep screamed against everything it meant to be of that noble country. Wutaians had a code of honor that they all kept—even Yuffie had stayed mostly true to her father's teachings, bizarre as they were—and that included allowing an opponent to fight for their life, not steal it out from under their noses when they weren't looking.

Unless, of course, these assassins were of a different clan than the current ruling body of Wutai. The Kisaragi had been ruling Wutai for nearly three hundred years, but even Vincent wasn't stupid enough to believe that they were the only noble house. The Inochigawa, the Amekintojin, the Kagenami—of which Vincent's mother had been a part—and the Shiroimizu clans had still been in full force when Vincent was a child, but he doubted they had much say in the goings on of Wutaian government now. The assassins hadn't spoken, so the gunner hadn't been able to decipher their dialects, but he could guess that they came from one of the other clans.

He wondered, fleetingly, if they came from his own.

The House of the Shadowed Ocean, the Kagenami, had not approved of Ayako marrying Gabrael Valentine, but she had not even been disinherited for doing so. Vincent doubted these men were from his house—it wasn't even common knowledge that he was Wutaian at all, much less heir to one of the noble houses—but Vincent could find little reason for them to attack him aside from his mixed heritage. The people of Wutai did not know that there was a demon lurking under his human skin—none save Yuffie, of course—so there was no reason for them to attempt his murder.

Unless, of course, this had something to do with the ninja in question. Vincent sighed again, turning his scarlet eyes toward the heavens. _Gaea, what has she gotten herself into?_

His thoughts were cut off by a quiet groan and he spun around to face, ironically enough, the young man in the _chou-ran_. He blinked several times before reaching up to wipe the blood from his eyes, and by the time his vision was clear Vincent was already standing before him. The man let out a muffled cry as the gunner flexed his claw experimentally and then lunged out to take hold of his attacker's collar.

"_Who do you work for_?" the gunner inquired in Wutaian, lifting the man off the ground so they were eye to eye. "_Why did you attack me_?"

To the ex-Turk's surprise, the assassin chuckled. "_You should have killed me_," he replied in the same language as Vincent. "_Now Lord Akaru knows where you are_, _idiot Valentine_._ We are called Watchers for a reason, after all_." He chuckled again, though this time it degenerated into a cough, and by the time the fit had passed there was a trail of blood running down his chin. He lifted his black eyes to meet Vincent's garnet, and grinned darkly. When he spoke again, his voice weak and wet, it was in the common tongue. "He can see what you are doing, and he does not approve. Cease your tracking of the princess or face his wrath." His eyes narrowed slightly. "And where you survived the wrath of the pseudo-divine Sephiroth, you cannot survive the anger of a true god…"

Vincent's eyes flashed, their glow intensifying, and he released the man, twisting his arm around so quickly even he could barely see it, and struck him on the neck. He heard the bone snap, and watched with blank eyes as the man sunk to the floor. He clenched both hand and claw into fists, teeth grinding, and tried to stop shaking. His hands shook, his entire body shivered slightly with something not unlike fear—but so much worse.

The Watcher, as he called himself, spoke of Sephiroth by name, something the general populous still feared to do, and with all the respect of a SOLDIER speaking of a Regular. There was no awe in his tone, no reverence and most certainly no fear.

Taking a shaky breath the gunner gathered his thoughts, gleaning the little information he could from the man's ramblings. Lord Akaru: that would be the head of the Inochigawa house, if he wasn't mistaken. He had been mentioned in a newspaper the gunner found during his trip with Cid to Corel—he had just signed a treaty of sorts with Shinra Incorporated to assist in the destruction of Meteor, and was responsible for the excavation of one Giant Materia. He had probably been about the same age as Rufus at the time, though with Wutaians it was difficult to guess age, and Vincent recalled wondering what one so young was doing tarnishing the fate of his entire bloodline.

But the moment had passed and the gunner, Nanaki and Cid had left Corel with a few gifts from the townsfolk and little else. It didn't seem right that something so subtle, so fleeting, should come back to haunt the gunner a full three years later, and he wondered if Fate was enjoying this new game.

Yuffie, wherever she was, was somehow related to this mess. Vincent wondered for the thousandth time why he hadn't just gone back to sleep after defeating Sephiroth. He could have crawled back into his coffin and dreamed until the end of the world; never seen any of this new darkness, never been so confused over how stupid Yuffie must have been to get herself tangled up in it. Never felt so foolish for getting tangled up in it himself. But then, if he wasn't here to figure out what was happening and piece together a solution somehow, then the end of the world would probably be much sooner than anyone had hoped.

Vincent murmured a quiet prayer as, one buy one, he snapped the necks of the sleeping Watchers. He couldn't have them waking up, not after what he had heard. If this Akaru character really could see through these men, then he already knew Vincent was still alive; he didn't need to know where he was headed.

Of course, Vincent wasn't even sure where he was headed at this point. He thought of going to Costa del Sol to get Cloud, but wasn't comfortable with thrusting the Mako-eyed young man into another battle for humanity's survival when he had clearly still not recovered from the last. The others were all accounted for, leaving Vincent to do this on his own. He did feel obligated, however, to call the numberless Clone and tell him what was happening.

He hadn't tried calling him since he left Nibelheim, after all; if he had gotten the message then he might be worried. Cloud, of everyone in the planet-saving group once called AVALANCHE, was the one to worry about Vincent most openly.

The gunner dialed in Cloud's number and waited as the phone rang once, twice, three times… This had happened last time, too, hadn't it?

After the fourth ring, the young man's voice mail picked up. _"Cloud Strife. I'm not picking up right now, and I might never pick up," _the recording said, just as it had last time._ "If you're a friend, leave a message; if you're not, go screw yourself."_

Vincent hung up, flipping his PHS closed as his heartbeat quickened. The Watcher spoke of Sephiroth, of his godhood, and referred to Akaru as a god himself. The only way for a mortal to do such a thing would be to tap into the powers of either Gaea—this was unlikely, considering the Ancients were all dead now—Sephiroth, or Jenova.

Cloud was Gaea's chosen, the mortal permitted to strike down Jenova's firstborn, and held within him the power of all three forces. Vincent swore aloud, grabbing his cloak and headband as he rushed out the door, and ran down the stairs so fast his feet barely touched the floor. He was out the door with little more than a whisper of his cloak and hair, and at the stables in an instant.

He attached Azrael's bit and bridle, threw on his saddle, and was mounted and down the street without a word. The bird warked once in inquiry, and Vincent could guess what he meant. "Costa del Sol," he murmured, as though he actually believed the bird could understand him.

The bird broke into a run.

Yuffie would have to wait, the gunner decided. She was in danger, certainly, but she wasn't the only surviving member of a clan of demigods. Besides, if he knew Yuffie she would be heading to Costa del Sol herself now that she was out of Kalm. He supposed she had gone to Neo-Midgar, but there was no doubt that her stay hadn't lasted long. He knew she didn't have her PHS—it wasn't like he hadn't tried to call her in three years—and didn't have any leads on her except what he knew about her character. Which, admittedly, wasn't much to go on.

Cloud probably didn't have his PHS either, but there was a greater chance of him having it—or at least being in earshot—than the ninja. Vincent pulled out his own machine and dialed Cloud's number again.

"Cloud, I don't know if you can hear me…"

**-**

**-**

**Another Author's Note: **Well, how was it? If, in your opinion, it was a complete load of tripe please tell me so I can stop deluding myself. Sorry about the cliffhanger; that wasn't actually intended to be the end of the chapter, but the last scene worked better as the opening for chapter three than the closing for chapter two. Chapter three is four pages in already and the other two chapters are only ten pages apiece, so it should be up pretty soon. Oh! If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask them; I'll answer as many as I can.

I'll be nice an leave a preview of the next chapter so you guys'll come back.

This is going to sound _so_ dorky…

**-**

**Next Time on _Glimmer: A Single Point of Light_…**

As if on cue, the PHS vibrated once from its place tucked into Cloud's belt. He started and looked down, pulling it out and surveying it carefully. Vincent again. He had called a moment before, according to the missed calls list, but hadn't left a message. This time when the numberless Clone's voicemail picked up a velvety tone sounded. Cloud smiled, knowing that Vincent spoke too quietly for Akaru to hear through the glass, and listened carefully.

"_Cloud,"_ the gunner said, his voice so apologetic it almost hurt, _"I don't know if you can hear me, or even if you have your PHS, but I think I've figured out what is going on. I'm going to your house, and from there I _will_ find you."_

A long moment passed, during which Cloud's eyes began to sting.

"_Tell Akaru that his Watchers are dead." _Another silence, this one considerably shorter._ "I'll see you soon."_

Cloud smiled at the click that denoted the gunner had hung up, turning his sapphire eyes on his captor. "Akaru_-san_," he said quietly, drawing on his slight knowledge of the redhead's native language, leaning both hands against the glass opposite the Wutaian's, "you are going to die."

**-**

_Please look forward to it!_


	3. A Bird In A Cage

**Author's Note: **Jeez, my updates are getting further and further between, aren't they? Don't worry, though. I have NOT lost interest in this story. I stay up at night wondering what else I can put Vin and Yuffie through—that's a lot of interest, especially for me. Special thanks to anyone who sent me _doujinshi_ links when I requested them in Chapter 25 of _Bound_, those also really helped with this.

**- - -**

**- - -**

**Chapter Three: A Bird in a Cage**

Akaru smiled as he placed once hand against the glass tank, surveying the slender blue-eyed man within. "Familiar, ne?" he inquired. "I read Professor Hojo's notes back when I joined with Shinra—that's how I found out about you and Sephiroth. I thought it would be nice to make this place as much like your old research center as possible."

Those sapphire eyes smoldered with rage, but the man said nothing in reply. Perfect white teeth clenched, hands curled into tight fists, rage emanating from his every inch, he remained silent.

"Oh, come now, Cloud," the red-haired Wutaian cajoled, "why don't you say something? Surely you're curious about why I've brought you here. You probably don't even know me, right? You don't understand why I would kidnap you, of all people."

Cloud's right hand flitted to touch his left, the place where he number should have been, and the glow in his eyes intensified. "I know why you need me," he said darkly, evenly, voice muffled through the glass. "It's because I'm a Clone. The last Clone."

Akaru let out a short laugh. "I knew you were smarter than that lunatic let on," he said, pressing both pale hands against the cold glass. "After all, you're still here and he's long dead…"

Cloud fell silent again, but kept his eyes locked with his captor's. It had been at least a month since he was abducted, and he still couldn't forgive himself for letting it happen. He had been sleeping one moment, under attack the next, and drugged an instant after. Whatever they used on him worked, and worked well—when he awoke he found himself in this glass tank. They had taken samples of his blood, fingernails, skin, hair…everything. However, he had to admit that this was better than his time with Hojo. At least Akaru let him keep his clothes.

Hell, the Wutaian—for he was most certainly of that descent—had even let him keep his PHS, though the young man never answered it. He did, however, listen to the messages left on his voicemail over and over again in the dark hours of the night, after all the scientists had gone home.

One from Tifa, two from Cid, one from Nanaki…most recently there was one from Vincent, and this was the one he listened to the most. Vincent was the closest thing to a best friend he had had since Zack, and the sound of his voice helped the blond keep calm even in such a situation.

As if on cue, the PHS vibrated once from its place tucked into his belt. He started and looked down, pulling it out and surveying it carefully. Vincent again. He had called a moment before, according to the _missed calls _list, but hadn't left a message. This time when the numberless Clone's voicemail picked up a velvety voice sounded. Cloud smiled, knowing that Vincent spoke too quietly for Akaru to hear through the glass, and listened carefully.

"_Cloud,"_ the gunner said, his voice so apologetic it almost hurt, _"I don't know if you can hear me, or even if you have your PHS, but I think I've figured out what is going on. I'm going to your house, and from there I _will_ find you."_

A long moment passed, during which Cloud's eyes began to sting.

"_Tell Akaru that his Watchers are dead." _Another silence, this one considerably shorter._ "I'll see you soon."_

Cloud smiled at the click that denoted the gunner had hung up, turning his sapphire eyes on his captor. "Akaru_-san_," he said quietly, drawing on his slight knowledge of the redhead's native language, leaning both hands against the glass opposite the Wutaian's, "you are going to die."

**- - -**

Yuffie stopped in the middle of the street for the third time in as many hours, looking up at the house that served as one of her best friends' home. She knew she was tempting Fate, she knew it was dangerous on all sides for her to be here, but no matter how much she walked she always found herself back here. The windows were dark tonight, as they had been for the last three nights she looked for some sign of life, but there was no telling if he was home or not.

Cloud, as much as she hated to admit it, was a Sephiroth Clone. Who knew if he needed lights to see in the first place? And she knew he hated going outside since they killed Sephiroth; not that she could blame him. Where she had reveled in the attention she got from reporters the world over, Cloud most likely locked his doors and boarded up his windows until they left. He didn't want attention—he wanted to be what he used to be. Like Vincent, Cloud had been twisted and changed, and now there was very little left of him that was the little boy from Nibelheim.

He had told her this on their way back from the Crater, explained to her, Nanaki and Vincent why he wouldn't be going with them all the way to Midgar. Without Cid's knowledge, the Clone had taken a parachute and ditched in the middle of a field; they hadn't seen him again until about a month later, at Cid's wedding. Tifa had followed him back to his home in Costa del Sol, and things had gone bad from there.

Yuffie missed them all, but she felt that she missed Cloud the most. There had never been any romantic interest in him, but he was most certainly her best friend. She wondered if he was hurt by the fact that she never called.

To ensure that she wouldn't break down and call one of her friends, put them in danger such as she never wanted them to be in again, Yuffie had destroyed her own PHS. A simple Bolt did the job, but from there she had thrown a grenade and let the pieces fly all around the Gongaga jungle. It had been so long since then that she doubted she could key in Cloud's number anymore even if she had a communication machine.

But that didn't mean she didn't miss him like hell.

Turning to leave her place in front of Cloud's house, the ninja bit back a yelp and dove into the shadows between buildings. A man stood on the sidewalk—he had just come up the stairs from the beach, actually—that was too familiar to ignore. He was one of the Elite Watchers, the ones garbed in black _chou-ran_ in place of sleeveless _chiao-fu _of a regular, and Yuffie had fought him before. He was the one Akaru sent when he wanted her brought back in a hurry.

_Shichirou,_ she thought, recalling his name. But Akaru couldn't know that she was in Costa del Sol—there was just no way he could possibly have found out! And yet, neither could it be a coincidence that Shichirou was here, in front of Cloud's house. The ninja quirked an eyebrow as the man sauntered down the street toward the numberless Clone's home, looking once in either direction before heading down the street. As he walked, footsteps light but not quite silent, he looked up and down the street as though he were waiting for someone. He wasn't looking for her, she realized. If he had been, then Yuffie wouldn't have been able to tell that he was looking around at all.

Shichirou settled against the front porch, reached into the pocket of his slacks to pull out a cigarette, and placed it in his mouth before he began fumbling for a lighter. After a long moment with nothing, the man sighed exasperatedly and held up one hand in front of the cigarette. Yuffie watched in fascination as his hand began to glow faintly, the palm littered with scarlet light, and a tiny flame appeared in the air just over his hand. It hovered there, silently burning, for a long moment as the Wutaian lit his cigarette and took a long drag. He closed his hand around the flame and it went out instantly.

_What the hell kind of spell was that?_ Yuffie wondered. There was no way it had been a Fire spell—those were far too powerful to be used for such petty things as lighting cancer sticks—but she hadn't seen him use any charmed objects—Items, people in the military called them—to call it either. Shichirou was not an Element Master, she knew that much. If he had been he would have used his skills on her a long time ago.

So then how did he call fire without the aid of either Materia or an Item?

The man exhaled slowly, smoke billowing from his parted lips, and Yuffie decided she really didn't care that much. She turned around slowly, silently, and started off down the alley between Cloud's house and his neighbor's. What mattered now wasn't how Shichirou had lit his cigarette, it wasn't why he was waiting in plain sight, it was the fact that he was there in the first place. There were Watchers in Costa del Sol.

The young ninja had to get to Ayana, and quickly. She had no clue where she would go from here, but it was better to run and be caught, she supposed, than hang around in the city's cage and beg to be taken back.

_But he wasn't looking for me,_ she assured herself. _He was waiting for someone, and that someone isn't me. He doesn't even know I'm here…_ As if on cue—a cue decided by some vengeful spirit who had a thing against Wutaian princesses—at that exact moment Yuffie slipped. There had been a storm the day Yuffie arrived, and she supposed this puddle was miraculously saved from evaporation by its place in the shadows of two houses. Miraculous. Right.

Anyway, the puddle was there and Yuffie slipped on it, stumbling back not into a trashcan or some other noise-making object, but a tabby cat. The feline did not screech, as it would have if Yuffie were in a movie, but rather leapt up and landed rather unceremoniously on the aforementioned trashcans. To make matters worse, whoever was in charge of stacking the metal receptacles hadn't done a very good job.

In other words, Yuffie slipped and ran into a cat, which jumped onto the trashcans and caused them to tumble down around the ninja's ears, loud and cacophonic as Barret's singing. Maybe even worse. _Well he knows I'm here now!_ she thought frantically, breaking into a run before the last can had hit the ground. The cat bolted in the opposite direction, thankfully, so Yuffie wasn't concerned with stepping on it as she fled.

Not that she would have cared, of course. If the cat hadn't been there then all that noise never would have been generated in the first place. "And to think," she muttered, "that I actually love those hairy things."

**- - -**

Vincent froze in place, just shy of turning a corner, when a loud clang rang out in the otherwise silent night, followed by a discordant series of metallic crashes. Leaning slightly to look around the corner, he watched the dark silhouette of what was most certainly a cat rush out of the alley between Cloud's house and his neighbor's. Just a cat, causing so much noise? It made no sense.

His scarlet eyes slid back from the racing cat to the man standing just to one side of the alley. Even as the gunner watched, the man shook his head in annoyance and leaned back against the wall of Cloud's house. A faint scarlet light rose from his hand to his mouth, intensifying for a moment before lowering once more, and a puff of smoke marred the night sky. Vincent narrowed his eyes, the glow brightening considerably as his pupils tightened into slits, and focused on the stranger.

Black hair, dark eyes, black clothing—a _chou-ran_, not a _chiao-fu_. A Watcher, probably high-ranking, judging by the uniform and the fact that the last one he had encountered garbed in such an outfit was obviously the leader of the little strike force.

The gunner felt his heart, slow as it was, skip a beat. If Akaru had sent a Watcher to Cloud's house, that meant he, at the very least, had Cloud's PHS. And if he had it that meant he had Cloud—the failed Clone _never_ set his PHS down. He was known for not answering it on occasion, or at least so Tifa claimed, but he carried it on his person at all times. Vincent Valentine felt one step closer to finding out what was really going on here, to verifying his horrible hypothesis. He wasn't sure whether to feel elated or uneasy.

Well, if there was a Watcher here he was most likely here to intercept Vincent. The fact that there was only one made the gunner worry—before there had been an entire group sent out after him and they had failed. Could this single man be more powerful than an entire group?

_Only one way to find out,_ he thought with an internal sigh, standing straight once more. He brushed his long hair back over his shoulder and stepped around the corner. The Watcher immediately snapped to attention, facing the ex-Turk as he walked silently up the road, and the moonlight played off the man's teeth as he smiled broadly.

"You would be Sir Valentine," he said softly, voice holding only the slightest trace of a Wutaian accent. Intelligent, to speak in the common tongue instead of his native—Vincent could decipher that dialect and figure out what class he belonged to with only three or so words to work off if he spoke Wutaian. Common had no such differentiation.

The gunner was now only a couple yards from the Watcher. "I am," he answered quietly. "If I may be so bold as to request your name?"

The young man's grin broadened. "Shichirou," he replied easily.

_Given name only,_ Vincent thought. _Either he's an outcast or has a clan-specific family name._ Looking the young man dressed all in black up and down, Vincent would be able to believe that this was a member of some noble house. But which one? Could he be another Inochigawa, one of Akaru's siblings? Or was he just a troublemaker cast out of his clan and stripped of his name?

Now was not the time to ponder on such things, the garnet-eyed man decided, flexing the claws of his metal hand beneath his cloak. "Shichirou," he echoed. "And I suppose you've been sent to kill me?"

Shichirou only smiled, dropping his cigarette to the floor and stomping it out. He placed both hands in his pockets and swiveled around, turning his entire body toward the gunner. He was completely unprotected, Vincent could strike him right now and everything would be over. Their fight would never have begun. The gunner, however, focussed not on the man's arrogant stance, but the smirk on his face and the glint in his eyes. There was more happening there, behind the dark gaze of the Watcher Shichirou, than even Vincent's Mako-enhanced vision could detect.

"I've heard stories about you, Sir Valentine," Shichirou said amiably. "People say you turn into a monster when you fight—not just symbolically, but that you actually _change_. Your bone structure rearranges and your entire body remolds itself in the blink of an eye, with nothing but a scream to herald it…" He let out a sigh, shaking his head, smirk still affixed firmly on his features. "I wonder how much of that it true?"

Now it was Vincent's turn to remain silent.

The Watcher chuckled. "Would you mind showing me?" he breathed, cocking his head slightly to one side. "Would you let me see the monster hiding under your skin?"

**- - -**

"Come on, you dumb bird!" Yuffie hissed, tugging on Ayana's reigns with all her might. "What is your freaking _problem_? We have to get out of here!"

The white chocobo warked quietly and turned her head, jerking Yuffie to one side as she faced a chocobo several stalls down. Yuffie turned, curious, and felt her heart stop as her mouth fell open. Grey-green eyes wide, her shaking hands fell from Ayana's reigns and she stared. That couldn't possibly be…it just _couldn't_! But it was, she was positive it was. But why in Leviathan's name would _he_ be here?

Three stalls down, pacing back and forth and scratching at the ground as though nervous or anxious for some reason, stood a black chocobo. That alone would not have shocked the young ninja so, but the bird's trappings on top of its coloration were enough to send her into a fit. No saddle, brassy plates on bracers around its feet, reigns made only of soft leather with distinctly gold tint. The black bird was most certainly Azrael.

Azrael belonged to Vincent Valentine.

"Vincent…oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…!" She turned frantically from the gunner's bird to her own. Ayana bore no identifying ornamentation or trappings—this was on purpose, to confuse her trackers—but there was no telling how long Vincent had been here, how long he could have spent examining the white bird, seeing how it responded to his voice… Vincent had always been good with the chocobos—almost better than Cloud, sometimes. When he was faced with a stranger's bird, however, he never bothered to attempt a connection. If he realized that the bird responded to his commands, he would know that it was Ayana.

And he would know that Yuffie was in Costa del Sol.

There was nothing for it—if Vincent was here, than the Watchers would recognize him from the reports and pictures plastered all over every newspaper after Holy and Meteor. They would link him with her, easily, and do anything in their power to take him out. They would fail, of course—this was _Vincent_, after all—but then the gunner would know something was wrong. It wouldn't take much for his Hojo-tweaked brain to put two and two together.

"Wutaians, and noble ones at that, crawling all over a city they've never had any interest in immigrating to before? Yep," she said aloud, trying in vain to mimic the inhuman ex-Turk, "definitely something of Yuffie's doing."

Vincent would be attacked, though, and if he was attacked he might transform, and if he transformed… There were so many people here. _Too_ many people. Someone was sure to be hurt, whether the demon that Vincent became meant to or not. Chaos had very little in the ways of conscience, and Yuffie just _knew_ he wouldn't care if he accidentally caught a few bystanders in his demigod-powerful attacks.

The girl lowered her head, eyes narrowing, and ground her teeth. "Shit," she spat, tilting her head to look back up at Azrael. She let out a sigh and stepped toward him taking hold of his reigns and leading him carefully out of his stall. "Come on, you bipolar birdbrain," she said quietly as she tied his reigns to Ayana's saddle, "let's go find your multi-personalitied master."

**- - -**

Shichirou removed his hands from his pockets and withdrew them into the heavy sleeves of his shirt, smile still affixed firmly into place. Vincent set his feet carefully, falling into proper position, and waited. The Watcher would strike first, he could feel it.

It would be easy enough, he supposed, to draw one of his numerous guns and kill them man with a single shot, but he knew he would regret it. Vincent needed information, and this one-man army clearly had it. The gunner just needed to be patient.

"You know, I read through Hojo's notes too. Akaru-_dono_ was nice enough to let the Elite Watchers read the old records, to study the way you and that boy still exist. It's amazing what you lived through, did you know that? Hojo mentioned over and over in his notes that you should have died. At least a dozen times." He let out a happy sigh. "When he temporarily removed your lungs, when he changed your metabolism, when he slowed your heartbeat…so many times you should have died and didn't." He cocked his head to one side. "Needless to say, I've been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time. I have killed many men, but even I have never defeated an immortal."

A long silence reigned, during which a glint of some unnamable curiosity lit in Shichirou's black eyes. "I wonder what it will take to make you scream."

Vincent remained silent, but his too-slow heart quickened at the impatience in his enemy's voice. The Watcher put both hands behind his back and lowered his head slightly, brow furrowing as though in thought. Vincent tensed, and in a movement so quick the gunner could barely follow it Shichirou surged suddenly forward. The ruby-eyed warrior dodged expertly, strafing to one side to completely avoid the Watcher's blow and dropping instantly to a crouch as Shichirou swung his sleeve-concealed arm toward him again. As the ex-Turk somersaulted backward to avoid a kick he felt the barest hint of contact between the man's foot and his knees. That was too close for comfort, and this man was _very_ skilled. He had obviously earned his current position in the Inochigawa brat's army.

Vincent surged to his feet and spun around just in time to strike Shichirou in the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. The Watcher took a stumbling step backward, eyes narrowing even as his grin broadened. "That was nice," he smirked. "I didn't expect you to take the offensive so early in the fight."

"You assume this fight is going last much longer," the gunner replied darkly. Shichirou took a deep breath and came forward again, but this time Vincent didn't even bother to dodge. Instead, he caught the man's hidden fist with his human hand and wrapped his claw around the Watcher's neck, holding him out at arm's length. "I don't intend to let this battle last any longer than it has to."

Shichirou smiled. "Neither do I, Sir Valentine." He let out a sigh and shrugged. "You aren't as perceptive as I had hoped, though," he complained. "I was so sure you would notice that I was only attacking with my left hand…" He twisted his right so the sleeve pulled back and revealed the barrel of a handgun. Vincent cast his eyes downward just swiftly enough to register what the Watcher was holding when the shot rang out, loud and sharp and almost musical.

It was not the firing of a bullet.

Vincent jerked backward, but the dart hit him anyway—even he couldn't get away quickly enough to avoid it. He felt the searing cold of some foreign liquid emptying into his veins and bit back a cry. Curling the claws of his metal hand around the dart Vincent crushed it, throwing it away and turning back to that Watcher with eyes that glowed with inhuman brightness. He recognized this sensation, the feeling of that liquid rushing through his veins, triggering something no god had ever intended a human to be capable of. "Y-You…"

Shichirou was examining his fingernails, nonchalant. "I told you I read Hojo's notes—that's the same serum he used to trigger your transformations when he wanted to study your monsters. It causes your body to generate the adrenaline required to carry out a normal human's Limit Break attack, but of course for you it turns out considerably different than just a single blow." He grinned at the gunner. "It should hit your limit in about three, two, one…"

Vincent cried out, eyes going wide as the familiar flare of agony that heralded a transformation rushed through his bones. The gunner's skin took on a faint glow, the color of moonlight; his eyes burned, pupils slits so narrow they were almost indiscernible amidst the scarlet. His skull felt as though it was going to burst, he ground his teeth in an attempt to stifle the inhuman growl torn from his throat by the demon living under his skin. It was all familiar, but there was something wrong—the pain never reached a crescendo, it never peaked. At this rate it wouldn't be a complete transformation.

The Watcher's smile faded as long horns tore from Vincent's forehead, twining their way slowly upward and back, bent so they arced over his head. The gunner's tightly-clenched teeth were now entirely sharp, his human hand bore claws several inches long and his metallic claw had turned the color of pewter, but remained otherwise unchanged. This wasn't right—the transformation was too slow, and it was slowing down even as he watched. Could it be that his formula had been wrong and the catalyst was incomplete? But Hojo's notes had never mentioned a transformation ever reaching only a halfway point, Shichirou hadn't thought it was possible.

The sound of tearing fabric echoed down the empty street as Vincent's cloak was reduced to ribbons, wings bursting free of the inhibiting crimson fabric. The gunner screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice layered over with a deeper, rougher tone that could only belong to his demon. Shichirou took a shaky step back as the ex-Turk fell to his knees, bracing his hands against the ground and gasped for breath. The light that had concentrated around his pale skin faded slowly away, leaving his flesh the color of alabaster.

"D-Do you…realize…" Vincent growled, lifting his horned head and turning his narrowed eyes on the Watcher. "…what you've done?" His voice, a blend of molten velvet and breaking bones, made the Watcher recoil. Vincent began to push himself back up, pausing when he reached a kneeling position to catch his breath. "Idiot human," the gunner hissed, the bone-cracking voice taking the forefront. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

He rose to his full height, ever so slightly taller than he had been before, and glared down at the Wutaian. "You wanted to fight my demon, didn't you?" inquired the velvet timbre of Vincent. "I'll bet you weren't expecting to deal with us both." He lifted his claw-tipped hand and prepared to bring it down on the hesitant Watcher, but his entire body went stiff when a bright voice cut through the darkness.

"_Vincent_!"

He turned to look over his shoulder and past one alabaster wing, scarlet eyes wide. "Yuffie?"

**- - -**

Yuffie spurred Ayana into a gallop with her feet, pulling Azrael along behind her. That Watcher must have come to Costa del Sol for Vincent, which would explain why he was so offhanded about his secrecy as he walked down the street. Vincent was the type to walk right into enemy territory unarmed and still win, so Shichirou has likely been taking advantage of the gunner's confidence. No, it wasn't even confidence; Vincent didn't seem to care if he lived or died.

In the fights back when they were tracking Sephiroth, she had never seen the gunner cast a healing spell on himself even once—Cloud would do it if he saw that the ex-Turk was excessively wounded, and Vincent would do the same thing for any of his comrades, but for some reason he seemed entirely uninterested in keeping himself alive. The only time she had seen him even mildly concerned with his own health was in the last battle, when he, Cloud and Nanaki had gone up against Sephiroth alone while the others fought off a monster horde. At that time he had appeared more drawn and upset than she had ever seen him—even when they found Lucrecia's grave he hadn't been that out of sorts.

He had danced around Sephiroth's blows, dodging whenever he could and firing at random intervals; with each shot he winced, expression identical to when he had been force to fire upon Cloud after the Temple of the Ancient compacted and the sapphire-eyed hero attacked Aerith. Yuffie had never seen him so upset before, much less over an enemy. To this day she wondered what had been going through his mind with each of those shots, but had never had the chance—or the overconfidence—to ask.

She came around a corner and her eyes widened as she recognized the two figures standing a distance down the street. One was most certainly Shichirou, she would recognize that stance anywhere, but the other one caused only confusion. Part of her screamed that it was Chaos, that she was too late to stop Vincent from transforming, but another portion of her mind declared that it was Vincent. The color was wrong for the demon, but those were most certainly wings rising from the tall figure's back; which one was it?

The figure lifted one hand, and in shifting his weight Yuffie caught the sheen of metal in place of his left arm. Chaos' arm was living flesh, meaning that she was looking at the gunner. But he had wings, and she was close enough now to discern horns twining their way up from his skull. What was going on here? She took a deep breath, urging Ayana to speed up by kicking her lightly in the sides.

"_Vincent_!" she hollered.

The figure stiffened and turned, and a familiar velvety tone spoke her name in an awed hiss. "Yuffie?"

She clicked back to Azrael, and as they rushed past the two figures to black bird lowered his head and tossed Vincent easily onto his back—to be fair, the gunner _did_ take hold of the bridle mid-swing and secure himself carefully on the bird's bare back, but Yuffie though the chocobo did most of the work. She glanced back at the gunner and was barely able to keep herself from crying out at the conglomeration of human and demon that greeted her vision.

"Holy and Jenova!" she burst out. "What the hell happened to you?" she shrieked as they raced down the street. The half-demon pulled his wings down as they went under the bridge marking the edge of town.

"What are you doing here!" he growled, glowing eyes narrowed.

Yuffie jerked at his voice, realizing that it was in fact two separate voices speaking in time—one of them was Vincent's velvet, the other the horrible grating of Chaos' spoken tongue. "I-I-I—" She broke off and her eyebrows jutted downward, lips pursed in indignance. "I'm sorry, Vinnie, but _your_ current situation looks a little more noteworthy." She paused. "And I asked you first."

The man dug his fingers into the thick feathers of his bird's neck and leaned his face down against it, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as the wind tore at his long black hair. He remained silent, and Yuffie knew the conversation was closed. She sighed and turned to face forward again. They had made it out of the town but their chocobos rushed dutifully onward; Yuffie wondered if they should stop any time soon.

"Hey, Vinnie?" she called back to the half-demon behind her. He didn't say anything, as usual, but she took his silence to mean that he was listening. "Where should we go? The closest town is hours away and the birds are already pretty tired. How hard were you riding Azzy, anyway?"

Vincent quirked an eyebrow. "Azzy?" he quoted. Yuffie shrugged, not bothering to look back at him. The gunner sighed and thought about the girl's inquiry. Where could they go? He was exhausted—an incomplete transformation was much more trying than a proper one, and those usually knocked him out for hours or even days after the battle—but he was certainly in no state to go to any city. He had no desire to be attacked simply because he had horns and sharp teeth.

The gunner sunk down against his bird again and took several deep breaths before speaking again. When he did, the sandpaper tones of Chaos had receded drastically. Good—the monster was tired too, so he would probably go to sleep again long before the injection wore off. "Turn around," he murmured.

Yuffie pulled back on her chocobo's reigns and turned around entirely in the saddle, staring at the gunner with disbelief. "Do _what_?"

"Turn around," he repeated, not bothering to open his eyes. He was too tired to bother with much of anything right now. "Cloud's house is vacant—the Inochigawa brat has him. We can hide out there until I'm back to normal, then we'll search the place for evidence and head wherever it leads us."

Yuffie's heart seized upon the mention of the last Clone. Akaru had Cloud? What for? Hadn't the poor guy been through enough already? He had lost his identity, the girl he loved, his _life_, and now a lunatic that couldn't even bleed right had kidnapped him? _Or is that Clonenapped?_ Her more sarcastic half chimed.

The ninja took a deep breath to steady herself. "Akaru has Cloud," she repeated. Vincent nodded weakly. Yuffie blinked—he was practically asleep. Even with horns and teeth so sharp he couldn't properly close his mouth, she had to admit he looked peaceful like this. She had never seen him so calm before.

His glowing eyes slid open and turned on her with confusion, urging her silently to continue. She jerked, realizing she had been staring, and stammered out her next sentence. "W-W-What does he want him for?"

"Sephiroth," the gunner answered simply, closing his eyes again. "The greatest powers our planet has ever seen include Sephiroth, Jenova and Gaea. Cloud has as piece of all three. He's about as close to a god as you can get without actually harnessing one." He let out a sigh, voice dropping to a whisper. "In that case…he would have had to capture…me…" A long breath wafted out from his pale lips and Yuffie blinked again in confusion.

Had Vincent just said he was a god? Her grey-green eyes went wide as the initial portion of his explanation at last sunk in. He had also said Cloud was almost a god, and that Akaru wanted him for something to do with Sephiroth.

Come to think of it, Akaru didn't bleed; how many Jenova monsters had they come across that were still capable of such a thing? Her breath caught in her throat as she realized what this connection entailed. "Oh my god," she rasped, holding both hands to her mouth. "Akaru injected himself with Jenova cells."

Vincent's ruby eyes snapped open so quickly it was almost audible, he pushed himself up so swiftly it caused Azrael to let out a loud wark of protest. "He did _what_?"

**- - -**

**- - -**

**Another Author's Note:** That was chapter three. Hope it was interesting enough to keep you reading—I'm trying to have chapter four done by next week, but it might be longer. This one took forever just because life got in the way, so I can't make any guarantees. In any case, thank you very much for reading this story so far I hope you are enjoying the painful misadventures of my favorite ex-Turk and his underaged ninja charge. (To be fair, she's nineteen now so she's technically an adult…but this is _Yuffie_ we're talking about here.)

**- - -**

**Next Time on _Glimmer: A Single Point of Light_…**

But why was he searching for her in the first place? Vinnie hated her, didn't he? She was loud, he was quiet; she was immature, he was a lot older than he looked; she was impetuous, he thought everything through. For Leviathan's sake, she called him "Vinnie" and his name was Vincent. There was nothing for him to like about her.

"Hey, Vincent?" she called. A grunt reached her hearing as she came to kitchen doorway, looking out into the living room and she cocked her head to one side. "Why'd you come looking for me? No one else did."

A long moment passed. "I was worried," he said at last. His voice was entirely velvet now, Chaos' bone-snapping gone at last.

"About me? Why?"

His wings rose slightly on the other side of the room, so Yuffie supposed he had shrugged. "Why not? You deserve the concern as much as anyone else, don't you?" He pushed himself up and looked at her across the room. The inhuman glow in his eyes had faded slightly, but the presence of horns curling up from his brow still unsettled the ninja. They simply stared at each other for a long moment, then the gunner sunk back into the couch, face-down.

Yuffie's heart was beating fast. Vincent had been worried. About _her_. "Uh…thanks, Vinnie," she said, turning away. She didn't expect him to answer.

"You're welcome."

She thought that was the single sweetest thing he had ever said to her.

**- - -**

_Please look forward to it!_


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